"Not at all," said Burroughs. "Have some of this--I don't know what it is."
He ladled a sort of stew on to Reinhardt's plate. For a few moments there was silence as they plied their chop-sticks. Then Reinhardt, glancing up under his eyebrows, said gravely--
"I zink it is chow--puppy-dog, you know."
The others held their chop-sticks suspended.
"I'll try something else," said Burroughs, looking suspiciously into another pan.
"In China one must not inquire too much," the German went on. "One must have faith. Once I was at an inn, deep in ze country. I demand dinner; zey say zere is none. Naturally I must have dinner, and I command ze innkeeper very loud. Zat is effective. Soon he bring me a ragout--excellent; I eat it wiz gusto. Afterwards I discover it is rats."
The Englishmen's faces expressed their disgust, and again there was silence.
"China is a great country for rats," said Errington lamely.
"Zat is true; zere are rats all up ze Yang-tse."
"Water-rats," suggested Burroughs.